Hello, all; back with chapter seven! At last, we get the long awaited prison break. Huzzah, Rogue Avengers! (And huzzah for monster-long chapters!)

Also, nerdy language note: the language used for "Wakandan" in the movie is Xhosa (otherwise known as the "click language"). However, T'Challa calls his dad "baba," which is actually NOT "dad" in Xhosa-that would be "utata". "Baba" is Swahili for "dad". So that kinda bugs me. All that to say, any "Wakandan" in this chapter is Xhosa. Translations will be provided like normal.

The "song" that Christy sings is a poem that I wrote after watching Civil War the first time.

Enjoy!


Chapter Seven

Prison was officially the most boring place on the planet.

That was Sam's estimation as he paced around his cell for the umpteenth time that…morning? Afternoon? Night? He had no idea. The harsh, florescent lights never dimmed, and there certainly wasn't a clock anywhere in the room. Food was delivered three times a day, but the guards must have been under strict orders not to talk to them, because they never said a word.

Wanda was having the worst time of it. Besides being confined like an inmate at an old-timey insane asylum, she'd also been having nightmares, or flashbacks, or nightmares involving flashbacks-or some combination of all three.

Sam could tell it was killing Clint, to not be able to comfort her. Heck, it was killing him! It was even killing Scott.

A quiet moan told him that Wanda had woken, and not happily. He could barely see into her cell, if he craned his neck.

"Wanda?" Clint called. "Honey, you okay?" His voice screamed "concerned dad" as he strained against the bars. Clint's cell was right next to Wanda's, but given that that cells were arranged in a circle, it didn't give him a much better angle than Sam to see her.

"Not exactly…" Wanda's voice floated across the air, strained. "I had the dream again." It sounded like a sob was stuck in her throat.

Sam gritted his teeth and, not for the first time, cursed General Ross and everyone else who'd thought it was a brilliant idea to restrain the "dangerous" Scarlet Witch.

Wanda, probably egged on by the straitjacket, had started having nightmares about the day her parents had died; about how she and Pietro had been trapped under the rubble of their bombed-out apartment. At first, she had refused to tell them what she was dreaming, but the story had finally come out in one desperate, tear-filled rush.

That had been a terrible...night? Again, it seemed like time didn't matter in this place. There was just one long haze of artificial light that was nearly soul-killing.

Clint banged his arms against the cell bars, eyes snapping with anger. "Dammit, Stark! Dammit, Ross! If I ever…"

Sam sighed and prepared for another rant from Clint. The normally quiet man was not happy about Wanda's treatment, and it showed.

We're all going insane. he thought. We are all, literally, going insane...

"Once upon a time in the winter, when snowflakes were falling, there was a queen who sat embroidering at the window. Her embroidery frame was made out of black ebony wood. As she was sewing, she pricked her finger, and blood got onto the white cloth. And she said, 'I wish for a daughter as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as ebony…'"

A dumbfound hush fell over the room, as none other than Scott Lang started reciting a fairy tale.

Perhaps there was something to the insanity theory after all.

"How do you remember all that?" Sam cried.

"Oh, it was Cassie's favorite when she was...three, maybe? I had to read it to her every night." Scott said breezily. "I thought it might help. Y'know, childhood innocence and all."

More silence. Finally, Wanda said, "My mother used to tell us this one."

That was all the encouragement Scott needed. He resumed the tale, "Soon afterwards, the queen had a daughter with skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as ebony. But soon after the baby was born, the queen died. A year later, the king got married again, to a woman who was very pretty on the outside, but cruel, vain, and insecure on the inside. She was jealous of little Snow White as the girl grew up and became prettier and prettier…"

Sam's pacing slowed as Scott continued through the story. Truth be told, it had been a long time since he'd heard a fairy tale.

He remembered reading once that the fairy tales of old weren't the sanitized affairs associated with Disney movies. They were full of darkness and depravity…but also happy endings.

Perhaps their own bleak tale would have a similar resolution.

He knew that Steve would come for them. It was a fact as certain as sunrise that Steve never abandoned anyone he cared about. It was just a matter of when.

So, like when he was a small boy on Christmas morning, waiting for the first rays of the sun to poke through the window, Sam stared into the darkness and waited for the dawn.

"And they all lived happily ever after…"


"So…we should talk."

Christy looked up from her i-pod and into her dad's earnest-looking face. It was late morning, the day after she and Pietro had arrived in Wakanda.

"Yeah…" she said slowly. "Maybe."

Steve sat down. "Where did we leave off?" he sighed. "It feels like it's been years."

"Aunt Peggy died…" Christy started. "And then Zemo the idiot bombed the embassy dressed like Uncle Bucky…"

Steve almost laughed. "Well, that's one way of putting it. Did I text you before we left for Russia?"

Christy nodded. "I know everybody had a fight in Germany. That's why Sam and Uncle Clint and Wanda and Uncle Scott got locked up. But what happened in Russia?"

Steve gave a long sigh. "Well, we got to the base. Zemo had already hacked his way in. Then, Tony showed up. He'd apparently gotten news that made him put two and two together, that something was up with Zemo, and he wanted to help. I really thought everything was gonna be alright with us. And then…" he trailed off, a look of pain flitting across his face.

"And then what?" Christy prompted.

"Zemo…he was, is, Sokovian. Like the twins. He…I think he lost his family, when Ultron happened. So his brilliant revenge scheme was to get me and Tony at that base, where they kept recordings of Bucky's old missions. One mission…" he took a deep breath. "Do you remember Tony saying that his parents died in a car crash?"

Christy shook her head.

"Well…they did. And, when I tracked down computer-Zola two years ago, at that base, I found out HYDRA was responsible for it. I didn't tell Tony. That was my first mistake. But in all the chaos, I guess it just went out of my head. I'd hoped it had nothing to do with Bucky. But then I found out I was wrong."

"Did he kill them?" Christy asked, quiet and hushed.

"Yeah, baby, he did."

For a long minute, nothing was said. A range of emotions flashed across Christy's face as her brain scrabbled to process that one simple statement.

"But he never knew what he was doing, right?" she whispered, like she was trying to convince herself. "When we first found him, he didn't even know what 'hungry' meant! He couldn't have known! Uncle Tony's gotta know that!"

"I think he does." Steve said gently. "Deep down, he does. But he was angry and not thinking and grieving all over again. I don't blame him for the that. But he…he was too angry. We fought. Hard. It was pretty gruesome."

Christy nodded. "You still got bruises." she reached out and brushed his cheek lightly.

"Yeah, I still got bruises. I…I had to break his suit, to get him to stop. For a minute, I thought I broke him." Steve's voice choked, and he bowed his head. "I thought I killed him. I was so desperate just to get him to stop." He shook his head. "Well, I did."

"It's okay, Daddy…" Christy whispered, leaning into Steve's side.

"No, baby…it's really not."

He had seen the look on Tony's face, when he'd been hammering into the suit with his shield. It had been a mixture of shock and pure terror that left a sick, guilty feeling in his stomach.

"Okay, so it's not okay now." Christy said, hugging him tightly. "But it will be. Later. When everybody calms down and thinks. We…we can't let the bad guy win."

Christy's simple declaration shook Steve to the core.

We can't let the bad guy win…

Something hardened in Steve's chest.

Zemo wanted to rip us all apart, destroy the Avengers for good. Well, I won't let him! Like Tasha said, we're all the family we've got. We have issues and egos, but when the chips are down, we're family. Zemo thinks he's won-but I won't let him win.

"No, we can't." he said firmly. "We won't let Zemo win."

Christy gave a sharp nod. "The bad guy always loses, in the end. So…is that why Uncle Bucky lost his arm? And why you don't have your shield?"

Steve started in shock. "How'd you know about the shield?"

"I didn't see it anywhere, so I wondered if you lost it. But then I didn't know why you'd lose it, so I thought I'd ask you about it."

This was the hardest of all to explain. Steve hesitated for a moment.

"When we were leaving the base," he started tiredly, "Tony was still angry. He was screaming about how his dad made my shield, and how I didn't deserve it 'cause I was taking Bucky's side and Bucky…killed Howard…" his voice shook.

"That's not true! You deserve the shield! Uncle Tony was just mad! People say stupid stuff when they're mad."

"Yes, that's true. But I just…in that moment, I thought…" Steve stopped. "This might not make any sense to you, baby."

Christy crossed her arms. "Try me."

Steve laughed a little at her fierce expression. "Okay. Well…in that moment, something just…clicked. The shield is the symbol for Captain America. And Captain America is a symbol of…hope. Justice. Freedom. But me…I'm no symbol. And with the Accords…the government wants me to be their hero. Someone who does what they say is right. And I won't do that. Not because I don't wanna be a hero, but because they haven't shown me that they're worthy of keeping tabs on us superheroes." He sighed. "There's something Peggy told me once…to compromise where you can, and where you can't, don't. Even if everybody else is screaming at you to do something, if you're convinced you're right, with good reason, you have to plant yourself like a tree beside the river of truth, and tell everybody else, 'no, you move.'"

Christy's brow was furrowed adorably. "So you wanna be a hero, but you don't wanna be told what to do by people who don't deserve to tell you what to do."

"Or people who handle power badly." Steve continued. "Like General Ross."

Christy scowled. "Aunt Tasha told me about him. He tried to hurt Uncle Bruce. Why was Uncle Tony listening to him?"

"I really don't know, baby. So that's why I left the shield. I just…dropped it. Tony probably has it now."

Christy nodded. "He'll give it back."

Not "maybe". Just "he will," spoken with the certainty of hope.

Steve sighed. "I wish I had your faith."

Christy shrugged. "It's just…Uncle Tony tries to act like he doesn't care, but he really does. That's why I think he'll give the shield back."

"I hope you're right." Steve pulled her into his side. "I really do."

Suddenly, something hit him like a ton of bricks. Quoting Peggy had brought another topic to the forefront of his mind, a topic that really needed to be discussed, ASAP.

"There's something else I need to tell you, Christy. Something pretty important."

Christy nodded. "Okay."

Steve took a fortifying breath. "Do you remember when I was in D.C. and I told you about that lady that lived across the hall from me? And how I was maybe gonna ask her on a date?"

"Uh-huh…wasn't she really a SHIELD agent?"

"Yes, she was, and then she went to work for the CIA after SHIELD fell. I lost track of her for a bit after all that, but…I saw her at the funeral."

"Why? Did she know Aunt Peggy?"

"Yeah, pretty well, actually. She is-was-Peggy's great-niece. Apparently."

Christy had a weird look on her face. "That's…interesting."

"In my defense, I didn't know that when I met her." Steve clarified. "And I already liked her then. Well, we talked after the funeral. And she helped us a lot, when we had to go on the run, after Zemo...after he said those trigger words and made Bucky go back into Winter Soldier mode."

Christy balled her fist. "I hate Zemo. I wish I could punch his stupid face!"

Steve gave a black smirk. "Ya bring your punching bag?"

Christy gave an equally feral grin. "Oh, yeah."

"But anyway." Steve said, steering the conversation back. "I wanted you to know about Sharon because...she's someone I'd like to get to know better. And I want you to be okay with that."

"Does she know about me?"

"Not yet. It…there was never a good time to tell her about you. And, well, it's something best done in person, anyway."

Christy grinned—she took a secret, devious pleasure in springing her existence on her dad's associates.

"But you should like her, baby; I'm sure. She's brave and smart and kind and…"

"…a good kisser…"

Father and daughter jumped as Bucky's voice drifted into the room, followed by the man himself.

Steve turned the shade of an over-ripe tomato. "James Buchanan Barnes!"

His voice was so strong and angry sounding, that Bucky went stock still. Before, in the old days in Brooklyn, he would have just laughed it off. But now…

"S-sorry." he muttered, shrinking in on himself a bit and biting his lip.

Steve instantly went into apology mode. "Nah, I'm sorry, pal; I shouldn't've yelled…"

Bucky sighed and shook himself as he unsteadily sat down. He hadn't felt threatened by Steve in a long time, but everything that had happened lately had seemed to throw him backwards in the recovery process.

"They checked my arm over." he whispered finally. "Should be ready for a new prosthetic soon."

"Good." Steve said, meaning it. "You can stop walkin' around like a drunk."

Bucky smirked slightly at that. There was quiet stillness for a minute or two, a familiar practice that allowed him to get his bearings after any "moments".

"So...what do you mean 'a good kisser'?" Christy asked at last

Bucky's smirk got wider, and before Steve could protest, he said, "She brought him and Bird-man their gear. And then, next thing I know, they're standin' under some bridge in the middle of Germany kissin' like no tomorrow. Didn't know ya had it in ya, Stevie."

"You kissed her?!" Christy cried.

Steve flushed. "It was a nice kiss. Nothing crazy. And, honestly...I dunno. It just kinda happened."

"So you like her?"

"I'm tryin' to figure that out, baby. All I know now is, I wanna get to know her better. And I really hope that's okay with you."

Christy nodded. "It's okay. I trust you. Just promise to listen to me if I say she's trouble." Visions of "Cinderella" were currently dancing through Christy's head. She was sure her dad wasn't going to date someone like the wicked stepmother, but still, the fear lingered.

Steve kissed the top of her head. "I promise. You mean too much to me for me to write you off if something bugs you about her." He shut his eyes and felt the press of Christy's body on his chest.

Sweetheart, you're my world.


Two days later, it was none other than Sharon Carter who called Steve up.

"Steve, hey…can you talk? Are you safe?" her voice was slightly hushed.

Steve moved into his room and shut the door. "Yeah, I'm fine. What's goin on?"

Sharon took a breath. "I…assume you've been making plans to pull off a rescue, from the Raft."

"Yes…"

"I figured. I also figured…you might need some help."

The offer sent a wave of relief through Steve, but also fear. Sharon was risking a lot, if she was offering what he thought she was offering. "Yeah, help would be...nice."

"Good." Steve could hear the grin in Sharon's voice. "It just so happens that I've been tasked with delivering supplies to said secret government prison. And it should be easy to disable the tracker long enough so no one notices when I make a quick pit stop in…wherever you happen to be."

Steve laughed, honest-to-goodness laughed. "Sharon, that's perfect! That's absolutely perfect!"

"I know the place has guards, but they rely a lot more on technology than actual humans to keep it secure." Sharon continued. "Thankfully, one of the guys we're breaking out has a Masters in engineering."

"Wait, 'we're'? And how'd you know that about Scott?"

"I do my homework. And of course I'm helping! What, did you think I was gonna sit around and let you do all the dirty work?"

"No, no!" Steve assured hurriedly. "It's just, they'll probably recognize you. You'll have to run."

There was a pause, and then the sound of Sharon's sigh. "I know. But I can't keep pretending I'm alright with this. This is wrong, what they've done with those four. Illegal, even. It's time to plant myself down like that tree, once and for all."

Steve smiled. "When's the day of days?"

"Thursday. So, three days. Care to give me some directions?"

"Have you ever heard of a little place called Wakanda?" Steve asked, his smile getting wider.

There was silence on the other end. Then, "T'Challa gave you guys asylum?"

"Yeah, something like that. He was pretty upset that'd he'd been hounding the wrong guy."

Sharon snorted. "'Hound' is a little too kind for what he did. But he did seem like an okay sort. Principled. Self-controlled. All that. So that's where you are?"

"Yeah, in the capital, in the palace." Steve gave a half-laugh. "Me in a palace-who'd 'a thought?"

"Well, frankly I think you deserve a palace." Sharon mumbled.

Steve's eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"Nothing!" Sharon said hastily. "Alright, so I should be able to figure something out. In the meantime, any way I can get a hold of tall, dark, and claws?"

Steve smirked and gave her the number T'Challa had given him. It was the king's private line.

"Okay; fine. I'll…see you then, I guess."

"See you then." Steve echoed.

The line clicked off. For a while, Steve sat quietly, pondering something.

He'd told Christy that he wouldn't let Zemo win. And part of not letting Zemo win was not letting his relationship with Tony fall by the wayside.

He had an extra burner phone. It was 'old' tech—what Sam called a flip-phone.

Sighing, he rooted around until he found a sheet of paper and a pen, and then sat down to compose what he wanted to say.

Nat had heard from Bruce that as soon as Rhodey was discharged from Colombia, Tony would be heading back to the base compound. Something about less stairs making it easier for Rhodey. Whatever the reasoning, Steve was glad. Tony had a small lab at the base, but nowhere near what he had in the Tower. He would have less space to lose himself.

Tony, he began.

I'm glad you're back at the compound. I don't like the idea of you rattling around a mansion by yourself. We all need family.

The Avengers are yours, maybe more so than mine.

A blackly humorous feeling told him that that statement wasn't perhaps as magnanimous as it seemed. Who was really left on Tony's "team," after all? Rhodey, who was out of commission for a bit, and Vision? Spider-kid? Granted, Vizh could pack a wallop, Rhodey was no slouch at full capacity, and the kid was pretty good for his age, but that wasn't exactly a whole lot for a team.

He continued on.

I've been on my own since I was eighteen. I never really fit in anywhere, even in the army. My faith's in people, I guess. Individuals. And I'm happy to say that, for the most part, they haven't let me down. Which is why I can't let them down either. Locks can be replaced, but maybe they shouldn't.

I know I hurt you, Tony. I guess I thought by not telling you what I suspected about your parents that I was sparing you, but I can see now that I was really sparing myself, and I'm sorry. Hopefully one day you can understand. I wish we agreed on the Accords, I really do. I know you're doing what you believe in, and that's all any of us can do. That's all any of us should do. So no matter what, I promise you, if you need us - if you need me - I'll be there.

Steve.

It would have to be enough, for now.


"No, Buck! Just…no!"

Bucky sighed. He'd known that Steve would say that. It was one of the reasons he'd hesitated to bring up the topic in the first place. But a raw, anxious feeling had been growing in his stomach ever since his encounter with Zemo, a feeling that gave voice to all his secret fears.

If he could be controlled just like that, whether with one word, or ten, or twenty, then was he never safe? Never free? What would it take to get all the programming out of his head? It was no longer a question of addressing issues when they came up-the programming made him a danger. It had to be dealt with.

"Look, Steve, I'm a liability…" he tried

"No you're not." Steve said firmly.

"I went on a rampage because of ten little words! Zemo got into one of the most secure places in the world! How do we know something won't happen like that again? I'm dangerous Steve!"

"I agree we need to get that programming out of your head, but Buck, going back under cryo seems a little extreme!"

"It'd only be until they found a solution for getting my head back on straight!"

Pietro sighed wearily as Natasha came back from getting a glass of water. "They still at it?" she asked.

"Like a cat and a dog." Pietro said grumpily. "He is being foolish."

"Who, Barnes?"

"Yes!"

Natasha sat down next to him. "How's your sister?"

"Bored. Having nightmares." Pietro heaved another sigh. "If we don't go soon, I'll go crazy!" he confessed. "I can't stop thinking about her!"

"Two more days." Natasha said encouragingly. "I know it's rough. I can't stop worrying about Clint either, and I'm sure Laura and the kids are hurting worse."

"What's going on?"

Everyone looked over as Christy came into the Common Area. Steve tossed Bucky a look and said, "Your funeral."

Bucky scowled.

"His funeral what?" Christy asked, stepping closer.

Bucky sighed. "Apparently, they have cryofreeze tech here."

Christy looked confused. "Yes?"

"And, I…casually mentioned that, until somebody finds a way to get rid of everything HYDRA put in my head, going back under might be best. So I don't hurt anyone."

Christy stared at him for a good half-minute. "This is a joke, right?" she said finally. "Late April Fools' joke, right? You're not really…" she trailed off. There was no cry of "gotcha!"

"No!" she cried. "No, no, no, no, no!"

"Like I said, your funeral." Steve muttered.

"Kid, I knocked over Sharon Carter, had Tasha in a chokehold, pointed a gun at Tony, and probably would have killed your dad, all 'cause some idiot said ten little words. An idiot who managed to break into a secure government agency building. If I wasn't safe there, then who knows what could happen elsewhere?"

Christy still looked horribly unconvinced.

"But we know better now!" Steve said. "We're not…you're not turning yourself in. None of us are leaving you completely alone with people we don't trust ever again. That was a mistake on my part."

Bucky shook his head. "Still. We can't be sure. And you can't protect me all the time, Steve. I know you'll try, but you can't. You know it."

There was a long moment of silence. Finally, Pietro's voice broke through the tense haze.

"You are looking for ideas, yes? For how to get rid of programming?"

Everyone stared at him.

"You got one, kid?" Bucky asked, surprise and a tiny measure of desperation in his voice. "I'm kinda up for anything at this point."

"Well," Pietro glanced down. "I can't volunteer it, because the person I am thinking of is not here. But you do know my sister can do things with people's minds? She used it to hurt before. Maybe now she can use it to heal." He smiled a bit. "I think she would like that."

There was dead silence in the room.

"You think Wanda could undo whatever HYDRA did?" Steve questioned.

Pietro shrugged. "I don't know. I really don't. But I think she would want to try." He looked at Bucky pointedly. "And I think you should let her, before you choose to become a popsicle."

Bucky hesitated. There were a thousand what-ifs in his mind.

But what if she can't or what if I hurt her or hurt Steve or somebody else or what if...

"It's not a bad idea, Barnes." Natasha encouraged. "I'd take it, if I were you. At least to try."

Bucky finally nodded.

"I'll try it. But if I get dangerous…" he looked at Steve. "Promise me you'll make the call. Sedate me. Freeze me. Whatever. I…I'm tired of waking up and finding out I hurt someone. I'm…I'm tired."

He certainly sounded tired. His voice had an old, worn quality; like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Steve nodded, even as his heart screamed "no". "If it comes down to that, I'll make the call." he said quietly.

Bucky nodded again. "That's all I'm askin'. All I want is to know that I'll never hurt anyone again, unless they're comin' after me. That's it! I'm tired of knowing I killed people that I can't remember! I know I wasn't responsible, I know it was HYDRA'S fault, but it doesn't make it hurt any less! And I'm sick of it!"

His eyes were awash with anger and fear and a desperate weariness.

"I know." Steve whispered. "But Buck, cryo won't fix what happened. Cryo won't fix that you're tired, in the long run. It just leaves you where you're at. Dealing with the programming; that's what's gonna help. If you really wanna live, you've gotta face what happened."

Bucky gave a long sigh. He knew Steve was right. Dealing hurt-but dealing with problems was the only way to fix them. Hiding never helped anybody.

"Please don't go into cryo." Christy mumbled, her voice breaking. "I'd miss you too much. Don't leave. I...I need you."

Something like ice water crashed through Bucky, like a jolt that woke him up from the fog in his head.

The kid said she needed him. Needed him, messed up and broken as he was. And though Steve would never say it, Bucky knew he felt the same way.

"You think I should let Wanda inside my head, kid?" he asked. "That's what you were afraid of, first time you two met."

Christy shrugged. "I was scared she'd hurt you. But now I know she wouldn't. I think you should try. Just don't...please." she ducked her head down, sounding close to tears.

"For you, kid, I'd handle anything." You told her that. Well, Barnes, were ya lying?

Bucky straightened up. "I won't do it. Promise, kid. I swear, on my life...whatever it's good for. I'll handle this."

Christy nodded and clutched onto his arm. Steve gave him a grateful look.

Here goes nothing...


All in all, Sharon thought she was handling everything rather well.

Yes, her aunt had died. That had been sad, and Sharon was still grieving, but Aunt Peggy had lived a long, full life. She had died in her sleep, content. It was something Sharon could deal with.

Then, she'd gotten mixed up with Steve Rogers and everything had gone to hell.

(And then she'd kissed Steve Rogers…)

But despite the insanity of the last fortnight or so, Sharon had managed to keep her cool and keep her head down. She'd been questioned, of course, but she'd managed to cover her tracks.

Now, she was thousands of feet above the Atlantic, flying into a reclusive African nation completely under the radar, about to break a large amount of rules and probably land on the "Most Wanted" list.

Still, Sharon was sure she wasn't panicking nearly as much as she could be. Just a little.

Or a lot.

She took a deep breath. Easy, Carter. In and out. You'll feel better once you're with Steve. You can do this…


Steve told himself he wasn't nervous as he waited for Sharon in the Common Room with Bucky, Natasha, Pietro, and Christy. Not in the slightest.

There was nothing all that scary about introducing your daughter to the woman you…liked. Quite a bit.

Nothing at all.

Right?

Finally, Sharon strode into the room just behind T'Challa. She raised her eyebrows a bit at the small crowd. "Quite the welcoming party." she observed wryly.

Steve stepped forward. "Glad you could make it."

Sharon grinned. "Well, not many people can say they helped Captain America organize a prison break." Her eyes scanned over the room and zeroed in on Christy, the one really unfamiliar face. "Who's this?"

Christy got up to stand beside Steve. Steve breathed out shakily. "This is my daughter."

Sharon's eyebrows raised a bit. "So…you adopted a kid?" she asked, giving what seemed to be the most reasonable explanation.

Christy's face split into her signature grin. "I like her!" she proclaimed.

All the adults laughed.

"Why, baby?" Steve managed.

"'Cause everybody else that finds out about me just goes 'how does Captain America have a kid?' Nobody ever guesses adopted!" She smiled at Sharon. "That means you're smart."

Sharon smiled back. "Well, thank you. What's your name, sweetheart?"

"I'm Christy and I'm eleven." she stuck out her hand. "Nice to meet you. Dad told me about you."

"Good things, I hope." Sharon said, shaking the offered hand.

"Oh, yeah. He said you were brave and nice. And Uncle Bucky said you were a good kisser."

Both Steve and Sharon blushed at that.

"A few years." Pietro hissed to Bucky. "A few years and I predict…"

Bucky nodded. "Oh, yeah…"

Natasha looked like the cat that ate the canary.

Steve finally shook himself back to reality

"Well, that went…better than I worried. Alright. So. Who's ready to plan a prison break?"

"Me!" Christy exclaimed.

Sharon looked at Steve. "She's coming?"

"No." Steve assured crossly, giving Christy a look.

"Hey, I said I was ready to plan a prison break, not that I was going on the prison break."

"That is a point." T'Challa offered, arms crossed. "Are all of you going?"

Bucky sighed. "Well, I don't suppose I can fight one-armed…"

"No." Steve said and Natasha echoed.

"Fine." Bucky looked at Pietro. "I take it you're going."

Pietro nodded furiously. "My sister is locked up in that place. I am going."

"Pietro…" Steve started. "You don't have to…I mean, you haven't been cited for anything. There're no warrants for your arrest. Your record's clean."

"I know. I was starting to feel left out." Pietro gave Steve a level look. "I am coming."

Steve nodded. "Nat?"

Natasha sighed. "I want to. Obviously. But I'm wondering…somebody has to straddle the line, between you and Tony. I don't know if I should sever things even further."

"The less people we have involved in this, the better." Sharon said. "I don't think it's an indictment on you if you don't come along."

"I agree." Steve added. "This is all voluntary, Nat. If you think you can help with the… 'reconstruction' elsewhere, be my guest."

Natasha nodded. "In that case, I may head back tomorrow. In all the chaos, nobody'll be looking for little old me."

"Right." Steve looked around the room, and then back at Sharon. "Well, you're the one with the helicopter. Got any ideas?"

Sharon smirked. "A couple…"


Steve, Sharon, and Pietro left about an hour later. It was really now or never for getting everyone out.

T'Challa was unable to participate, for obvious reasons. It would not be good for diplomatic relations if the king of Wakanda was found breaking into an American maximum security prison. But he had made sure the fledgling vigilantes had all the tools needed for such an endeavor.

The Captain had asked only one thing of him while he was gone: make sure my friend and my kid are okay.

It was a request T'Challa had every intention of fulfilling. Hence why he was watching a small blonde girl stand quietly in front of the glass wall that overlooked the jungle.

"It is a very pretty sight, is it not?" he asked quietly.

To his shock, Christy didn't jump. "Yes. It's very nice." she answered carefully, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. "I was thinking about how I'd like to go swimming in that waterfall."

T'Challa stepped forward so that he stood parallel to the girl. "You could do that."

Christy turned a little. "Really?"

"Yes. Perhaps when your father returns, he would take you."

"He would…sir. Your Highness. Uh…" Christy turned to him with a sheepish smile. "What am I supposed to call you?"

T'Challa smiled. Now Christy's oddly stilted tone made sense. "What do you call your father's friends?"

"Uncle. Or Aunt. But you're a king."

T'Challa rested a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Yes, I am a king. But I have plenty of people to call me 'sir' and 'Your Highness'. I don't need another."

Christy nodded sagely. "Like Dad needs people who remember he's Steve Rogers and not Captain America."

T'Challa gave a wry smile. "It seems the burdens of kingship and the burdens of being a hero are not so far removed."

"But what should I call you?" Christy persisted.

"I think you answered that question already."

Christy frowned. "Uncle T'Challa…kind of a mouthful. What's 'uncle' in Wakandan?"

Surprised, and pleased, T'Challa replied. "That would be umalume."

"That's even more of a mouthful." Christy muttered, half to herself. "What about 'cousin'?"

"Umzala." T'Challa answered, grinning.

"Umzala." Christy repeated. "Umzala, umzala, umzala. That works. But I'd just say that, otherwise it rhymes and sounds stupid." she grinned self-consciously. "Umzala T'Challa. Nah, it's gotta be one or the other." She glanced at him. "It's really okay?"

T'Challa nodded. "Truly. It is fine." He looked down. "I have felt a lack of family recently."

"Oh." Christy moved her arm slowly around T'Challa's waist. "I'm sorry about your dad. I…he looked really nice, on the news."

T'Challa gave a sad smile. "He would have liked you, I think. You and your…family. But I do not think he would have been proud of some of my actions of late. He was not a believer in revenge. But when he died, all I could think was to avenge him. I was so angry…"

Christy frowned. "I…I think I understand. When I hear that somebody hurt people, I wanna hurt them back. But my Uncle Bruce once told me that revenge is a terrible gift to offer people you care about."

"Your uncle is a wise man."

"Yeah. He's really smart. I hope he's okay…he didn't sign the Accords." Christy looked serious. "Thank you for doing this. Hiding us. I hope you don't get in trouble."

T'Challa shook his head. "I would have been in more trouble with my own conscience if I did not aid you. My father taught me that sometimes, it is better to listen to your own conscience, though the whole world moves the other way."

"That's like what Dad said. Like my song…"

T'Challa raised his eyebrow. "You have a song?"

"I…I like music and sometimes I write songs. They're not very good, but…I wrote one earlier, for Dad. About everything that happened."

"Well then." T'Challa folded his arms and smiled. "If you would like a practice audience…"

For a moment, Christy froze like a deer in the headlights. But then, with all the acting skill of someone trained by the Black Widow, she took a deep breath and started to sing:

"I took my stand by the riverside,

Packed my bags, said my goodbyes

Now I live the shadow life

In and out, but in the light

That burns out bright from deep inside

Oh the River of Truth may take your life

But I'll spend my days beside it

I'll raise my head up high and say

No man will ever take me away

If I can't be your hero, then I won't

If I can't be your hero…then I won't…"

She was shaking by the end of the song, her eyes scrunched shut. Slowly, she opened them and looked into T'Challa's face. The king was nodding fast and furious.

"You do very well. Very well indeed. I think your father will like it."

Christy beamed, basking in the praise. "I tried really hard."

"Then your trying was not in vain. It was well written and well sung."

"Thank...what's 'thank-you' in Wakandan?"

T'Challa smiled. "Say enkosi."

"Enkosi." Christy practiced quietly. Then, louder, she said, "Enkosi, umzala."

"Wamkelekile, omncinci." T'Challa said back, happiness flooding in his chest.

Perhaps the decision to harbor known fugitive Avengers hadn't been the easiest. Or the most seemingly sane. But T'Challa thought that, maybe, it was for the best, after all.

He was sure his father would have agreed.


Steve sat against the helicopter wall with Pietro, while Sharon got clearance into the prison.

"Ready?" he murmured.

Pietro gave his signature cocky grin, tinged with a tiny bit of wildness. "Ready." he said.

Mentally, he sent Wanda a message: "We are coming, sestrica. Get ready."

Whatever Sharon said worked, because a loud grinding sound accompanied the prison compound as it rose out of the ocean.

"Man, these guys do not mess around…" Sharon said quietly. "Ready, guys?"

The "guys" nodded. "You clear on your bit?" Steve asked.

Sharon nodded. "I see that the supplies get unloaded, you guys sneak in. Once all the guards are unconscious or incapacitated, you guys hightail it outta here with the others and I sound the alarm and call headquarters in deep distress."

The las bit was said with a very heavy layer of sarcasm.

"That's two of you straddling the line." Steve said sadly. He was more than a little concerned for Sharon, even more than for Natasha. A lot could go wrong with their plan.

Sharon just shrugged. "Well, if I get arrested, I suppose you can always break me out. It seemed to be your specialty, during the war."

Steve grinned. "Yeah, I guess it was. I'm a little rusty after seventy-five years, but here goes nothing…"


Sam thought he was hallucinating at first. Maybe Scott's drumming had finally driven him to the brink of insanity. (Seriously, ever since Clint had given him flak about being in a band during college, Scott had seemed determined to prove that he actually had musical talent.)

But out of the dim lighting, dawn at last broke.

Steve walked up to the cell, almost grinning. Sam shook his head, a smile stretching across his own face. "Took you long enough."

"I had to wait till the heat died down." Steve protested, glancing at the mechanical pad that opened the cell. Using a card he'd swiped from one of the guards, he unlocked the door. As it slid open with a quiet whoosh, Sam exited the cell as fast as humanly possible.

It took Wanda a moment to process what was happening. She had heard Pietro's voice, telling her that 'we' were coming, but her mind had been so loose and floating lately, that it had barely registered. She almost gasped in shock when she saw her brother's beaming face.

"Hey, little sister, you wanna get out...?"

Suddenly, his smile died as he took all of her in.

"What is this!" he cried, shaking with suppressed fury. His hands were trembling so badly, he could hardly open the door. "What did they do to you?"

That broke the dam inside her. Wanda started leaking tears like a waterfall.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Pietro asked, as he scooped her up bridal-style.

"I, I didn't want you to worry."

"I worried anyway!"

"It was so long, brat…I almost gave up hope…"

"I know, sestra, I know. I'm here now. I'm here and it will be okay."

Clint made a beeline for the two of them as soon as he was freed. "Hey, hey…" he whispered. Pietro's shoulders were now shaking as well. "It's okay, I got ya, both of ya. Daddy's here…" He kept up a steady stream of comforting words and wrapped both twins in a hug, pouring out all the love he'd been unable to express locked in a cell.

"Oh, God, that's adorable." Scott said, sprinting out of his newly opened cell. "Okay, can we get our gear? 'Cause I'm pretty sure Hank would have my head if I left the suit in government custody."

Steve nodded. "Let's go. Only so long before somebody gets wind of the alarms and starts sniffin' around."

As they made their way cautiously down the hall, Pietro turned to Scott. "Hey, Mr. Electrical Engineer—can you get this thing off my sister?"

Scott looked over the collar and winced. "Yes. But I need the suit, okay?" he looked at Wanda. "Can ya hold on 'till I've got the suit, kid?"

"Yes." Wanda said, a bit of fire returning to her voice. "I can. I am fine…I will be fine, when I am out of this torture device!"

Pietro's jaw clenched.

In short order, they got everyone's clothes and gear. Wanda was finally able to shed the hated straitjacket and Sam was more than happy to find his beloved "bird costume". Clint fingered his arrows lovingly and Scott hugged the suit to his chest, saying: "Old friend, it's good to see ya!"

"Ready?" Steve asked. Everyone nodded.

"Then let's get gone."


They flew out of the prison, the blaring sound of alarms in the distance. Sharon would soon place a frantic call to headquarters, and Ross would be left shaking his fist, but with no Avengers.

All in all, a good days work.

Steve was flying the helicopter, with Sam sitting co-pilot. Clint was in the back with the twins calling home on a burner phone. Scott had been able to shrink down and undo the collar on Wanda.

"Sooo…" Scott said, leaning forward on the pilot and co-pilot seats. "What's next for our intrepid band of outlaws? Robbing the rich to feed the poor?"

Sam snorted. "Cap, I just ask one favor: never, ever make me bunk with him again. I refuse."

"Aw, c'mon, man! I thought I grew on ya!"

"Robin Hood, huh?" Steve asked, grinning. "Christy might agree with you there. She loves those stories. And Clint—no surprise there."

Scott grinned back. "Cassie likes 'em, too. Even wanted to be Robin Hood, for a little bit. My ex wasn't best pleased."

Sam laughed. "I'll bet."

Steve leaned back and gazed out into the open expanse of blue. Robin Hood? Maybe. Or maybe he could just be a normal guy in hiding for a bit. That could work, right?

Still, in his heart of hearts, he knew he could never give up heroing, even if he wasn't formally a part of the Avengers. The official Avengers, at least.

"If I see a situation pointed south, I can't just ignore it. Sometimes I wish I could."

"No you don't."

Tony was right. And while Steve didn't know what the future held for him and his "intrepid band of outlaws," he knew there would always be a part of each of them that stood for the "little guy".

That was, after all, what had made them Avengers in the first place. And no government could take that away.


Hope that was all you expected and more! I had fun writing everything.

Most everything gets translated in-story, except for "Wamkelekile, omncinci," which means "You're welcome, little one" in Xhosa. According to GoogleTranslate.

Next update will either be this weekend or later next week, because I start work on Monday and I also have family coming to stay.

Stay posted, and until next time...

Reviews are wonderful things...